


All That Matters Now

by Janina, mynameisnoneya



Series: At Her Majesty's Service [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forgiveness, Heavy Angst, Jaime Lannister Lives, Jaime Lannister Redemption, Jealous Jon Snow, Jealousy, Jon Snow is a Mess, Moving On, Post-Canon, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Grinning ear to ear as she rounds the corner and dashes down the hallway leading to his chambers, she reminds herself that she must remain calm when speaking with him, even if she can barely contain her joy.  Although what she must tell him will undoubtedly hurt him, there is no malice in her heart.  She only wants Jon to be happy, truly she does.  She wants him to find with a woman what she has with Jaime.  She wants Jon to find someone whom he can trust - body and soul - and who will love him for who he is without question.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, past Jon Snow/Sansa Stark - Relationship
Series: At Her Majesty's Service [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002744
Comments: 27
Kudos: 75





	All That Matters Now

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the eleventh in the series, _At Her Majesty's Service_ , a collaborative effort by mynameisnoneya and Janina. It can be read on its own, but we recommend reading it after the other ten previous works to help it all make sense!
> 
> Please note that we made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not.
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - we own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let us know by leaving comments and kudos!

She’s racing through the corridors of Winterfell, unable to keep the smile off her face as she makes her way through the excitement brewing among the servants, thanks to the pending feast tonight. Nodding politely at them when she passes, she doesn’t pause long enough to notice their curtsies and bows of respect before she’s long gone, moving as fast as her feet can carry her. Her only aim at present is to see Jon – to see Jon and to tell him the very thing she knows he does not want to hear.

Grinning ear to ear as she rounds the corner and dashes down the hallway leading to his chambers, she reminds herself that she must remain calm when speaking with him, even if she can barely contain her joy. Although what she must tell him will undoubtedly hurt him, there is no malice in her heart. She only wants Jon to be happy, truly she does. She wants him to find with a woman what she has with Jaime. She wants Jon to find someone whom he can trust - body and soul - and who will love him for who he is without question.

Outside of Jon’s chambers she stands, breathing heavily from her exertion. She clears her throat, smooths her skirts, and stiffens her back as she knocks.

“Come in,” she hears him call out.

As she strides confidently into his chambers, she doesn’t shy away from the sight of him without his shirt as proper protocol would dictate. She walks toward the window where he sits on a chair while Sam tends to his bruised lip. Jon’s back is toward her, and he doesn’t bother to turn to see who has come to pay him a visit. Sam, of course, notices immediately who has entered the room, and he fumbles with the ice wrapped in cloth which he’s pressing against Jon’s mouth.

“Fuck!” Jon barks when Sam accidentally presses too hard. “Watch it, would you?”

“Your Grace,” Sam says calmly, ignoring Jon while he bows before Sansa who is now standing directly behind his patient.

In an instant, Jon is out of his chair, whirling around to face her. “My lady! Forgive me, I didn’t know it was you who - ”

“No explanation is needed,” she replies without hiding her amusement. “I’ve heard my fair share of coarse language in my day.” Smiling, she turns to Sam. “May I speak with Jon alone for a moment, Sam? That is, if you’ve finished tending to him?”

“Yes, of course,” Sam hesitates, shooting Jon a look that lets Sansa knows he isn’t quite done yet.

“If I need to return, I am happy to - ”

“He’s finished, alright,” Jon interrupts, yanking the wrapped ice chunk out of Sam’s hand and holding it to the corner of his own mouth. “I’ve had about all the help I can handle for one afternoon.”

As Sam’s brown eyes narrow in irritation, Sansa laughs. “I’ll be back,” Sam tells Jon gruffly while closing his bag of tricks and then heading for the door. He pauses before he exits. “Shall I shut the door, Your Grace?”

“Yes, if you would,” she replies, and with a slight bow, Sam leaves. When she turns toward Jon, her eyes meet his for only a moment before they trail downward to the many scars littering his torso. It is the first time she’s seen them, and her stomach lurches at the thought of what he has suffered. There are so many of them, she cannot count them all. Raised reddened ridges and thin white lines, some old and some new, but all remain as evidence of the struggles Jon has faced and the battles he has fought in his lifetime. She has scars of her own, too, ones he has never seen nor ever will - some on her flesh but mostly in her heart.

“Jon . . .” Unconsciously her hand lifts to touch his chest, and he inhales sharply when her fingertips graze the deep wounds left behind from the mutineers during his tenure at the Wall. “You could’ve died . . .”

He smiles though it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I _did_ die, remember?” 

Sansa’s snap upward, and in that moment, the stories he has shared about life in the Night’s Watch and what he endured to come back home overwhelm her. It is one thing to imagine someone’s agony. It is other thing entirely to witness it first-hand.

Everything she’d planned to say, all the things she’d wanted to tell Jon evaporate when his fingers wrap around hers. Her joy and elation at having chosen Jaime still burn in her soul, but it is tempered with the knowledge that her cousin – the man she once loved – is about to be hurt all over again. And this time, it will be at her own hand.

“Please, Sansa . . . don’t cry,” he whispers as a tear trickles down her cheek. “Forgive me. My jest was in poor taste.” He pulls her into an embrace, his heartbeat quickening when she rests her head against his chest. “I am here, and I am alive. That’s all that matters now.”

As he strokes her hair, her voice will not come, and when her eyes shut, she is overrun with memories from her childhood. She’s running through the halls of Winterfell as a girl, chasing after Arya who has stolen one of the dolls yet again. She’s watching Mother while she brushes and plaits her long, coppery hair before bed. She’s laughing at Robb and Theon and Jon as they try to hit a bullseye in the courtyard but are bested by Bran. She is racing toward Jon after her arduous journey back to Winterfell, surprised and overwhelmed that he is alive and that she is home once again. She is standing on the turrets overlooking the snow-covered hills, refusing to cry as Jon and his rag-tag crew head for Dragonstone in search of aid from the woman who will wind up doing everything in her power to destroy the bond the two cousins share.

“Sansa?” The confusion is written all over his face when she abruptly pulls away from him and steps toward the window.

“‘When you are old enough,” she says, gazing out the window while remembering Father’s words from long ago, “I’ll make you a match with someone who’s worthy of you; someone who’s brave, gentle, and strong.’” She pauses, swallowing hard at the memory of his soft, gentle voice. “Do you know when Father said that to me?”

“No,” Jon replies, shaking his head though she does not look his way.

“Father told me that when I thought myself in love with Joffrey, yet I would not listen to him. I insisted that I loved Joffrey and wanted to stay with him in King’s Landing instead of going home.” When she scoffs at her youthful ignorance, Jon’s soft footsteps approach.

“I wanted a fairytale, Jon,” she continues. “I wanted to marry a beautiful knight who would whisk me off my feet and treat me like a princess. I wanted a man who could speak pretty words and flatter me with gifts and songs.”

“And now?” Jon is directly behind her, and when he hesitantly places his hand on her shoulder, she tenses. “What is it that you want now, love?”

Sansa slowly turns where she stands, and the hopeful glint in Jon’s gray eyes all but breaks her resolve to tell him the truth. She steadies herself, determined to finish what she has started. He must hear what she came to say.

“I want a man who loves me for who I am, not for who he expects me to be. I want a man who comes to me not out of a sense of duty but because he cannot live without me. I want someone I can trust implicitly, someone who will fight for me, my home, my people without hesitation. A man who makes me feel alive and desirable and capable of making my own decisions. I want – nay, I _need_ – a man who sees me as his equal.”

“Say the word, Sansa, and I am yours.” He moves to pull her into another embrace, but she quickly steps backward. His gray eyes dance with confusion, his dark brows almost touching.

“I’m afraid that I cannot.”

Jon blinks. “I don’t understand.”

She says nothing, waiting for the realization to seep in.

“Am I not the man you just described?”

“No, you are not.”

Jon exhales sharply. “You don’t think I am capable of giving you what you desire?”

“You are capable of many, many things, Jon, but - ”

“- you’ve chosen him, haven’t you?”

When his nostrils flare, she nods slowly. “Yes.”

“How?” Jon’s exasperation overtakes him. “How could you?”

“Please know that I did not come to this decision lightly. I have spent countless hours - ”

“Don’t,” he mutters, backing away from her. “Just . . . don’t.”

“Jon, please - ”

“Have you forgotten what that man’s family did to ours?” he shouts. “To you?” He’s pacing the floor of his chambers like a caged animal, feral and wild. “What could possibly make you choose the Kingslayer over me? Bloody hell, how could you choose that man over _anyone_?”

Her temper bristles, her back stiffening under the storm cloud of his outburst. “His name is Jaime.”

Jon’s eyes cut to her.

“His name is Jaime, and you will kindly remember to use it from now on.”

Her cousin scoffs, rolling his eyes in silent protest. 

“You may not agree with my choice, but he is my choice all the same,” she continues. “I love Jaime, and he loves me. And I am happy. Happier than I have been since I can’t remember when.”

Still Jon says nothing.

Sansa inhales and exhales in her vexation. “Remember, Jon, that I do not owe anyone, including you, an explanation of my heart unless I choose to give it.”

“Oh, right,” he scoffs. “I forgot. You’re the queen. You can do whatever you want.”

Sansa’s jaw tightens. She has had quite her fill of her cousin and his foul mood. “‘I want a man who makes me feel capable of making my own decisions without questioning them.’ Did you forget that as well?”

Jon freezes in his tracks, and his eyes widen. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just - ”

“ – questioning my decision?”

He hangs his head in shame.

“Look at me,” she continues, taking a few steps toward him, and when his eyes slowly rise, she offers a slight smile. “I’m not angry with you.”

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m not. In fact, I believe I can understand your displeasure.”

Jon sighs. “I’m sorry, Sansa. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to yell.” 

“I know you didn’t.”

“And I’m sorry for being such an arse.”

Her smile widens. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

“It’s just . . . I just cannot understand how a woman of your integrity could fall for such a man as him,” he continues.

“I am fully aware of all the horrible things Jaime has done,” she says, taking Jon’s hand in hers. “He’s hid nothing from me.”

Jon does not respond, waiting for her to continue.

“But I am also aware of all the brave, noble things he has done as well. Like how he lost his sword hand trying to protect Brienne’s virtue from the gang of murderers who kidnapped the two of them. Or how he jumped into a ring with a live bear – one-handed and with no weapon, mind you – to try to save her life.”

Shocked, Jon’s mouth gapes.

“Do you know it wasn’t Jaime who first told me these things but Brienne?”

“No. I had no idea.”

“No one does.” Sansa grips Jon’s hand. “Need I also remind you of how he risked his life for us and our home?”

Jon can’t help but scoff. “He didn’t risk his life for me.”

“But he risked it nonetheless,” she replies. She inhales sharply, releasing a slow, steady breath before she continues. “You are right, Jon. Jaime has done plenty of things which will haunt him until he draws his last breath. What you choose to overlook, however, is the good in him. How he is a man with honor, even if you and the rest of the world refuse to acknowledge it.”

Looking at their joined hands, Jon shakes his head. “I will never understand your choice, Sansa.”

“I do not ask you to understand it, but I do ask that you learn to accept my right to choose if not the choice I have made.”

He winces. “You don’t expect me to remain at Winterfell and live here watching you two together, do you?”

Sansa’s smile tightens. “I would never presume to tell you to stay here if that is not what you wish to do.” She lifts Jon’s hand to her mouth and kisses it. “You should know, though, that I _do_ want you to stay here. I _do_ want you to be a part of my life – _our_ lives – if you would agree to remain in our ancestral home and help me see to it that our people never suffer again as they have.”

Jon says nothing while she stands beside him, and as the seconds slowly pass, she decides to give her cousin the space and time he needs to digest what she has told him. “We’re family, Jon. Know that you will always have a special place in my heart, wherever you venture.” She releases him and walks away, heading straight for the door.

“Sansa,” he calls out to her as she opens it.

“Yes?” she replies inside the doorway, looking over her shoulder.

“I will always love you. No matter where I go or how many years the old gods give me, I will always love you.”

She smiles though she wants to cry, unable to respond. Gradually the door shuts behind her, and she closes her eyes, pressing her forehead to the cold wood. She swallows hard, choking back tears. Her heart aches deep inside knowing that this chapter of her life is now complete, but when she hears her father’s voice inside her head, the joy she experienced not so long ago while wrapped in Jaime’s arms surges through her veins.

_When you are old enough, I’ll make you a match with someone who’s worthy of you; someone who’s brave, gentle, and strong._

Sansa smiles.

_You may not have made the match, Father, but he is worthy, I swear. He is brave, gentle, and strong. He loves me without hesitation and without judgment, just as I love him. He is my everything. And that is all that matters now._  
  



End file.
